Once the car stops sliding, I park crookedly in front of the old, forgotten house, wondering how I’m going to get to the backyard because the driveway hasn’t been plowed and the walkway hasn’t been shoveled. Because it’s an abandoned house and it has to keep looking abandoned, even though Blue is basically living on the property. I understand that he can’t be shoveling a path for me, and as I schlep through the snow toward the house, I’m worried about leaving all these boot prints on the property. Just as I’m walking around the side of the house, Blue appears.
“I thought I saw car lights,” he says, leaning down for a kiss. “I didn’t know if you were coming today since you didn’t show up yesterday.”
“It was snowing, and my mom was freaking out about me driving and upsetting my grandmother—”
His warm lips are on mine again. “Don’t worry about it,” he says with a smile. “I missed ya.”
“I missed you, too.”
“Jump on my back and I’ll carry you the rest of the way. The snow is almost up to your waist, shorty.”
Laughing, I smack his arm. “It is not.”
“Jump on anyway.” He turns, and I jump on his back, hanging on to his shoulders and giggling as he trudges through while Acorn frolics around beside us. At the shed door, we stomp our feet to get rid of the snow and then quickly scoot inside.
“Wow,” I exclaim instantly. Blue’s been busy… rearranging. Everything’s in a different place, as if he moved all the stuff in the room clockwise. The best part, the part that makes my heart jump into my throat and gives me such a burst of happiness that I almost cry, is the tiny fake Christmas tree in the corner decorated with a few strands of glistening silver tinsel. One wrapped present is placed nearby. Blue’s standing in the middle of the room, smiling from ear to ear.
“I cleaned up a little, and I fixed the door so it shuts better. And I got this tree.”
“It’s beautiful.” His smile and bright, excited eyes are drastic changes from the last time I saw him when he was still sad, depressed, scribbling, and walking around all night. That mood lasted for days, and I was starting to worry he would never come out of it. Seeing him relaxed and happy again is the best present in the world, and I have to throw my arms around him and hug him because I missed this version of him so much. His embrace is tight and fierce enough to make my ribs hurt, and I wonder if he misses himself when he gets that way.
“I know I’ve been fucked up,” he whispers into my hair.
“It’s okay. We all have bad days.”
We slowly let go of each other, and he crosses the room to get the present from under the tree. “This is for you.”
I bite my tongue to keep myself from saying, “You didn’t have to get me anything,” because I know how much it bothers him when I say things like that. Instead, I take off my coat and sit on the bed to open his gift. I unwrap it slowly, wanting to relish and remember this moment with my first Christmas present from him. Inside the cardboard box, under crumpled white tissue paper, is a tiny wooden trinket box with a blue bird painted on the front. A few small scratches mar the surface of the wood, but I’m not bothered by them at all. My breathing stalls for a moment as a wave of total adoration for this man washes over me.
“It’s so beautiful.”
“Open it,” he urges.
I do, and it begins to play a melody. It takes me a few seconds to realize it’s not just any melody—it’s the first song he ever sang for me that day in the park. It sounds very different coming out of this itty-bitty box, but it’s definitely “Slayer of My Heart.”
I gape at him. “Oh my God… is this your song?”
“It is.”
I’m almost speechless with the shock of such an unexpected special gift. “It’s amazing,” I finally say, still holding it delicately in my hand. “How did you do this?”
He sits next to me, and the air mattress sinks considerably under his weight. “There’s this old guy downtown who owns an antique shop. Sometimes I play in front of his store. Mostly for him, though, ’cause he likes music. I bought it from him, and he knew a guy who could make it play my song.”
Tears are in my eyes when I turn to put my arms around him again. “Thank you. I love it, and I love you.”
“I wrote that song about you, so I felt like you should have it.”
Wow. A song about me. And those lyrics… How did they go again? My mind races back in time to grasp them, but he yanks me back with a touch of his hand on my thigh and his lips burning across my cheek.
His voice is low and husky, filled with pent-up desire. “Take your clothes off.”
“Wait… You have to open your presents first.” I grab the bag I brought in with me and pull out three gifts—two for him and one for Acorn, who starts to rip his open as soon as I give it to him. Within seconds, he’s got the peanut butter-stuffed bone in his mouth. Blue and I laugh as Acorn carries it over to his bed and gets into serious chewing mode.
“You just made his year.”
“Good. Now open yours.”
He tears his first gift open almost as fast the dog tore into his and slowly pulls the journal out of its dust bag.
“Piper…” He runs his fingertips over the pebbly black leather. “This is fuckin’ awesome.” He raises it to his nose and inhales. “I so dig the smell of leather.”
I smile at him sniffing his gift. “Me, too. And it’s so buttery soft.”
“It’s wicked soft. And you got me a pen.” He twirls the pen around in his fingers the way a seasoned drum player spins their sticks. “This is really cool.”
“Open the next one.”
“You shouldn’t have gotten me so much, babe,” he says as he unwraps his second gift. “I feel bad I only got you one.”
“Stop. It’s not a competition. What you gave me is priceless. It’s your song. And the bird… I know how much it means to you. It makes it even more special to me.”
He nods solemnly and carefully pulls the beaded necklace out of the thin black velvet box.
“These are onyx and hematite,” I say quickly, hoping the way he’s staring at it isn’t a sign that he doesn’t like it. “It’s for healing, luck, and protection.”
“Man… I don’t know what to say. This is so thoughtful. And special. Like you.” He clasps the necklace around his neck and touches it at the front of his chest. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Of course you do. Don’t be silly.”
“I should’ve been with you yesterday. I know that, Piper. I’m a dick, but I’m not a stupid dick.”
“Blue, you’re not any kind of dick.”
“I am. And you let me be one. You’re the first person to ever make me wish I wasn’t like this.”
“Isn’t that part of love? Loving someone no matter what? Inspiring them? Wanting to be better together?”
“For some. You sure as shit make my life better.”
“You make mine better, too. Of course I wish you were there yesterday, but it’s okay. We’re together now, and I’m happy.”
He puts his journal off to the side and then pushes me down on the bed, slowly crawling on top of me. “I’m gonna show you how happy you make me,” he says hoarsely and grinds his hard cock against my thigh. Capturing my mouth with his, he kisses me so deep I lose my breath and my mind, and I tumble into a sensual, woozy, dreamlike state. Blue has a way of making me feel entirely euphoric, floating, and disconnected from the rest of the world.
Standing, he towers above me and pulls his shirt off, then unbuttons his jeans and tugs the zipper down. Grabbing his cock, he pulls it out while shoving his clothes out of the way. I lie back and stare up at him, admiring his lean, muscular body and the ink that decorates it. He’s like a walking coloring book, all lines and images and shades of gray and muted color. Even in the chilly room, my body instantly heats when he strokes his hand up and down the length of his shaft. Reaching for me, he grabs a handful of the front of my sweater and yanks me up into a sitting position, bringing me eye level with his cock.
“Open your mouth.”
I obey, opening my mouth like a starving bird as I stare up the length of his body to meet his smoldering gaze.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he commands. “I don’t want you to touch me.”